


How to Fall to the Dark Side in Ten Minutes and Save Jerks from Themselves

by passcod



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Basically all of the New Jedi Order students are OCs because canon doesn't tell us anything, Female Protagonist, Fuck It Up Differently, Gen, Groundhog Day, No pairings - Freeform, Time Loop, Time Travel Fix-It, Twi'lek protagonist, many OCs - Freeform, unless something drastic happens, well apart that there's no Togruta
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2018-05-05
Packaged: 2019-02-19 14:00:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13125189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/passcod/pseuds/passcod
Summary: Groundhog Day time loop set at the time of Ben Solo's betrayal of the New Jedi Order.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Contains spoilers for TLJ and TFA backstory, but none for either's actual plot. However, it still spoils a major component of TLJ. You have been warned.
> 
> Updates whenever I feel like it. No beta. That does not mean no editing. If thing are inconsistent from what you remember of previous chapters, go back! Chances are I changed something because I made a mistake. If it's anything major, it will be noted in the relevant chapter end notes.

Sylla Rill was woken up by a cry and roar she wasn’t sure wasn’t part of a dream, followed by loud clatter and the sound of someone tripping outside on the Temple’s steps.

_It’s too early even for Master Skywalker_ , she growled while grabbing around for a robe and standing up groggily.

“Oi” she yelled, opening her door. “What’s with the…”

The words died in her throat at the sight of Ben Solo, panting and clutching his lightsabre hilt, shirt torn and eternal black trousers dusty. He looked bewildered and in shock. She rushed to him.

“What happened? Are you alright?”

He looked up, eyes not quite reaching hers, and haltingly, voice low but picking up volume: "Master— Uncle— he. He tried to kill me. He tried to kill me!"

_What._

She repeated the word, adding “Are you sure? That doesn’t— Skywalker?”

Ben jerked away from her, his voice wobbling as he continued: "You don’t believe me. You don’t!" he yelled when she tried opening her mouth, "he told me… He told me they’d not believe…"

_Who…?_ she wondered, inching forward again. Ben wasn’t making sense, but she had to calm him down. Everyone had times when they woke up in a panic still believing they were in their old life, or not recognising friends. She tried to send some soothing through the Force.

Ben, who had turned around, still talking to himself, flinched, rounded up on her, visage distorted by rage. "You’re trying to manipulate me! He told me! Stop trying to Force your Light on me!"

He stepped closer, and she stepped back involuntarily. "You don’t believe me, do you?"

“Ben,” she tried, “you have to—”

“You’re either with me or against me,” he snarled, stepping forward.

“What are you—” but the Force was screaming “—talking about” she tried to finish. Pain and harsh light in her stomach, in her chest. Then nothing more.

* * *

Sylla Rill was woken up by a cry and roar she wasn’t sure wasn’t part of a dream, followed by loud clatter and the sound of someone tripping outside on the Temple’s steps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Convinced she's had a particularly vivid vision, Sylla goes to find Master Skywalker. She doesn't find him where she expected to.

Sylla Rill was woken up by a cry and roar she wasn’t sure wasn’t part of a dream, followed by loud clatter and the sound of someone tripping outside on the Temple’s steps.

She clutched herself and wailed in remembered pain.

_Remembered? No._

That was the strongest and clearest Vision she’d ever experienced. She had to tell Master Skywalker.

She quickly went in the fresher to splash some water on her lekku; it always helped her wake up faster. To fix the Vision in her mind, she entered a light meditation for a minute. There was a persistent warning from the Force, but given what she had just Seen, it was understandable.

She strode out, barely looking around herself as she went — it was _very_ early and the chances of meeting anyone were nil.

Her tent was closest to the Temple, and Master Skywalker’s was farthest, perched on the highest point of the soft incline leading from the building to the cliff and the sea. He was always surrounded by grass; Senator Organa had once explained, on visit, that Master Skywalker had grown up on a desert planet, with no greenery and little water, and that this was his way of coping, even after all the years. Sylla could barely imagine it, and she had grown up on the driest habitable part of Rodia!

She was set to stride right past Ben’s tent when something caught the edge of her vision. _That’s odd_ , she thought as she turned her head, _I don’t remember his tent being so low…_

Of course, she was also pretty sure it wasn’t meant to look like an explosion had gone off inside.

She stood blinking for a moment, then recalled a part of her Vision:

_“He tried to kill me!”_

No, it was impossible. But she still needed to look inside and determine if anyone was under the rubble. She sent a small prayer to the Force that she wouldn’t find someone’s crushed corpse.

Levitating rocks was a first-month exercise.

Levitating rocks when tired or not properly woken up was also a first-month exercise, thanks to Master Skywalker’s impossible schedule.

Keeping the rocks floating under stress was a third-month exercise.

She let it all drop for about half a metre before catching it when she saw the unmistakable mechanical hand of her teacher gleaming under the moonlight, poking out from under more of the rocks.

Sylla shifted the rocks aside, checked the ground was clear, then let the whole lot fall as she rushed towards the prosthetic. Which was attached to an arm. Which was attached to Master Skywalker, unconscious, battered, a mask of surprise gracing his features.

She felt in the Force and sighed in relief: he was alive.

She carefully levitated more rocks to clear the path, making sure to keep the ones that were laying on Skywalker alone: if something had broken or he had internal bleeding, moving them could be a very bad idea.

When she had moved all that she thought she safely could, she tried to wake him up. Gently, with a tiny nudge along the faint Force bond he had with all his students. It wasn’t a full apprentice bond like they read about in the texts, so she couldn’t do much more, really.

It was still enough. Master Skywalker jumped out of the rocks he was trapped under, so fast some of them flew at Sylla. She eeped, surprised, and batted them away. “Ben!” Skywalker shouted, then looked around wildly before his eyes rested on Sylla, confused.

“Sylla? What are you doing here?”

“I came to find you,” she began. "I have had a Vision and I needed to tell you of it. I happened upon Ben’s tent and stopped to search…"

“Ben!” Master Skywalker interrupted, hurriedly. "Do you know where he is? Have you seen him?"

He was extracting himself from what rubble he hadn’t thrown away, a little more carefully this time, and checking his mechanical hand’s motion at the same time, and dusting his robe off, and talking to her at the same time. It was a bit distracting, and she had been his student for _years_.

“I saw him in the Vision, he—” she shuddered, recalling the horrible horrible pain that had ended it. "He said you had, well, I think. It didn’t make _sense_! But. He said you had… tried to kill him."

Master Skywalker’s face stilled.

“And then he—” she tried to speak, but found she couldn’t. She closed her eyes and released her emotions into the Force. Then, she continued in a detached voice. "He spoke of someone who told him I, or we, wouldn’t believe him. Given his state of dress," her teacher looked curious, so she clarified, "he was dirty and his robe had cuts, Ser, much like yours right now. Only more dusty. Given his state of dress and of mind, I assumed he had had a traumatic dream, much as we all do sometimes. So I attempted to soothe him with the Force, gently, like you taught us."

Skywalker nodded in encouragement, but looked grave.

“He… didn’t seem to take that well.” She hadn’t realised, in the Vision, but looking at it a second time like this, it was obvious. Ben had reacted _to_ the Force, as she applied it. “He turned on me and, and.”

She prepared to release more of the emotions into the Force, but before she could, she felt herself calm down and an older, kind presence seemed to surround her. She opened her eyes to find her teacher smiling at her slightly, sending calm along their proto-bond.

Sylla gathered herself, and finished: “In the Vision, he… murdered me.”

“He wouldn’t, though, right?” she asked in a small voice. “It’s Ben.”

“I fear,” started Skywalker, "that the Vision may have been a true warning."

She felt her eyes widen.

“He wouldn’t!” she pleaded. "Ben would never— he’s the sweetest of us all. Grey, sure, like most. Born after it all ended. He’s never had to know… to live through…"

“I know, Sylla,” he comforted. "The Ben we know would never do this. But I fear that he may have been corrupted. Come."

He started to walk towards the Temple, in long strides, and she hurried at his side. She looked forward, at the shadow it cast against the night sky, at the reflections of moonlight in its tall windows. At its foot, her own tent was clearly visible, light spilling out of it. In her hurry she must have forgotten to turn it off, or even to close the door.

As they approached, echoes of shouts made their ways to them. Master Skywalker stilled, and Sylla felt him enhance his hearing with the Force, but she hadn’t yet learned the skill, so she simply waited, and watched him. His visage grew even more stilted, eyes widening, skin paling.

“Stay here,” he ordered, and took a step up the Temple stairs, then stopped, and turned back. "No. Run to the hangar, take whatever you’re most comfortable with." He threw her a small metallic cube from a pocket. "Use my keycodes. Something that can jump to hyperspace. I will join you… but if I am not there in a half hour, take off and jump to D’﷼. The coordinates are in all navicomps. You’ll find my sister there."

“What? No.” What was happening? “I should—”

"You’ll go, Sylla Rill. Ben… needs his family. I’ll contact Leia."

 _When?!_ she wanted to ask. _What is happening?_

He pushed her gently away, before turning back to the Temple. Sylla only hesitated a moment before going where she was told. She had no preference, but boarded the same shuttle she had done her pilot training in. After half an hour, she convinced herself to wait just a little more. After forty minutes, she took off carefully, rose to orbit, and prepared the jump. She looked down at the Temple, seeing flickers of light, but nothing more, at that altitude.

The Force was quiet, almost waiting.

She pushed the hyperspace lever down, held on as the stars blurred, and…

* * *

Sylla Rill was woken up by a cry and roar she wasn’t sure wasn’t part of a dream, followed by loud clatter and the sound of someone tripping outside on the Temple’s steps.

_What._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed post-publication (March 2018): Sylla grew up on Rodia, not Ryloth. Rodia is lush and green, Ryloth is mostly rock, a fact I'd originally overlooked (see the "and she had grown up on the driest habitable part of" part. Ryloth is dry everywhere, and only the undergrounds are habitable. The sentence makes no sense on Ryloth).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylla gives in to her anger for a moment and takes it out on the nearest thing.

Sylla Rill was woken up by a cry and roar she wasn’t sure wasn’t part of a dream, followed by loud clatter and the sound of someone tripping outside on the Temple’s steps.

_What._

She wasted no time and just jumped out and… tripped over the person sprawled all over the Temple steps.

_Curses. I forgot about—_

“Ben? What are you doing here?” she asked while picking herself up.

She noticed a lot more, now that she wasn’t so surprised. His robe was shredded in places, but in one place along his front, it was a sharp thin long hole instead, with the edges slightly curled outwards. A lightsabre melt, like one acquired during practice. His eyes, brown-black usually, had specks of a lighter colour flashing in and out within them. He looked both scared and furious, right now in these short moments taken completely by surprise.

Taking a step back, she could see his robe was of lighter cloth than they all wore for training and day to day. A nightrobe, then.

_Black, as well? Does he actually own any other colour?_

And within its folds, an arm gripping something… his sabre, thumb still on the switch, controls pushed up to the maximum. This was not a training blade at the moment. This was the weapon that had… in the Vision… but Visions didn’t _hurt_ like this, did they?

She palmed her own lightsabre, and, keeping her eyes on Ben Solo, who was still picking himself up the floor, slowly pushed the controls higher and higher until they butted against the endstop and she noticed she was straining against the weapon in her grip. She was angry, but she didn’t care. Ben, not the sweet boy she knew, but this Ben, this monster, would murder her, and Ben would murder Master Skywalker, that’s why he hadn’t come back in the second Vision. She had Seen it.

Sylla decided to take care of the problem here and now.

She strode up to the boy, who was turned off away from her, looking at the Temple. As she took the step that would bring her in range, as she started her swing, she activated her blade.

Ben Solo had no chance.

His torso wasn’t cleanly cut in two, though, as Sylla’s own sabre was a shorter length than the practice blade she used in Soresu class, and she hadn’t compensated. Both his heart and spine were bisected, and his body fell awkwardly, his once-pretty face smashing itself on the pavement.

She stood there, with a mute satisfaction, for all of two seconds before it all caught up back to her.

_What have I done?_ she despaired, and she took a shaky step back, and she retched, doubling over. In her shock, she dropped her shields, blasting horror and confusion and, although she tried denying it, a hint of smugness at a job well done, to all her surroundings.

She felt Ben’s fading consciousness and his terror at his impending doom, and she felt Master Skywalker — unconscious, in pain — and she felt a death ring out in the Force, right next to her. And she felt a wrenching in the fabric of the world, and she

* * *

Woke up in sweat and horror, her shields still in disarray, as outside there was a loud clatter and rumble and the sound of feet running towards the Temple.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Sylla makes a plan. It goes terribly, of course.

Sylla woke up in sweat and horror, her shields still in disarray, as outside there was a loud clatter and rumble and the sound of feet running towards the Temple.

She could feel a strong presence, a dark presence, right outside her door. She knew who it was. She didn’t know how this was possible, even with the Force, even with Visions, time travel or waking up over and over and over… it just wasn’t possible.

But it was. And it was happening to her.

_I’m not anyone important. I’m not… Master Skywalker, or even **a** Skywalker. Why would the Force even care about me?_

She could feel a sense of chiding, almost as if the Force was saying It cared about all beings, not just one family above all others. Well. That may be, but she wished she could have passed on _these_ shenanigans.

As it was, she had no idea what to do. She certainly wasn’t going out, this time. She had no intention of meeting… him. She could still feel the echoes of his surprise and death in the Force. Except… it wasn’t echoes, was it? It hadn’t happened… yet… this time. Just a memory.

Sylla tried to enter a meditation, but she was still shaking. She needed to get her shields under control, though. The dark presence outside had moved on (and wasn’t that a surprise, that she could detect it as dark, now) deeper inside the Temple, but it would do little good if she continued casting out such a strong presence like a beacon in the night.

She got up and ran through a warm-up kata. If resting meditation was out of the question, perhaps moving meditation would help. She moved her bed and things out of the way, double locked the door and shoved her lightsabre into the controls, blocking it. If she wanted to get out, she could cut her way through. And the damage wouldn’t be there when she next woke up.

She assumed the position for Form I, first kata, with her blade set to training mode. She imagined Master Skywalker at her side, leading the group through the kata. Sabre up, a foot forward, strike smoothly downwards as she brought the other foot up, curve the movement back up as she stabilised, then guard up, block and parry her imaginary opponent, step back, push slightly, and… back in starting position.

_“And start again from the top,”_ the Master Skywalker in her mind instructed.

Forwards, push, backwards, parry, block, forwards, backwards, forwards, backwards, push, block, push, block, push, get back…

_Enough._

Sylla wasn’t broadcasting erratically anymore, but her shields were still non-existent. She moved into the next kata. And the next. And the next.

When she brought the last of all sixteen Form I katas to a close, she was relaxed and felt more confident than… well, a few hours ago in real time, but more like a day in her perception. Many wakings ago. Her shields looked solid, perhaps even stronger than she had them usually. No wonder, with what had happened.

She hadn’t pushed her emotions into the void of the Force, but she didn’t need to now. She was taking her situation perhaps a bit too calmly, with a sense of detachment. She felt both guilty and relieved of that.

_Now what?_

Well, there was the problem of this waking nightmare. When faced with an impossible situation, what to do? Observe, predict, experiment, be bold, be prepared to run like hell. Oh, Master Skywalker had better words for it, and tried to impart lessons that were a bit more, um, Jedi-like, but that was what it usually boiled down to.

Observe: dying caused her to wake up. Killing B— the monster that was B— the bastard in anger caused her to wake up. Leaving the planet… or perhaps it was because Master Skywalker had killed B— the bastard? Sylla hadn’t really been around to figure it out, at the time.

Speaking of which: it had been… she glanced at the chrono. Two hours since waking up. And she hadn’t woken up again, which meant B— _the bastard_ was still alive. She reached out carefully until she found the angry ball of emotions and darkness and then swiftly retreated. According to her internal map of the Temple, which wasn’t very good, but she knew where classrooms and training rooms were, roughly… he was in the dining hall?

Well. Even hangry people needed food.

Hmm. Predict: surviving the day would let her escape this.

That didn’t quite cover why she woke up when she offed the bastard (it was getting easier to refer to… the bastard… like that), but she would take it.

Experiment: staying around wasn’t a very good idea. The bastard was clearly unhinged, and homicidal, and had that whole “if you’re against me then you die” bullshit going on. However, so far it had only been a problem when he _met_ people. Master Skywalker. Her. No-one else awake right now. Although — she glanced at the chrono again, annoyed with herself for forgetting the time in the few minutes it had been since she did — people would start waking up soon enough.

Be bold: Get out of here, take a shuttle, raise the alarm. Wait. No, that would just alert the bastard. Go door to door and warn people. But what if the bastard came back in the meantime?

_You’re not very good at this be bold thing, are you?_ a part of herself said.

Be prepared to run like hell: Get out, take a shuttle, bring the shuttle to the tent field, land in front of the bastard’s tent, lift up the rocks, load up Master Skywalker, go round all the other tents with the ship, warn people and get them on board, lift off, leave the bastard where he is, job done.

Right then. Sylla got going.

To her credit, it didn’t go awry _immediately_.

Cutting a hole in her door was almost fun, if you didn’t count the persistent paranoïa that made her shut off her sabre at the smallest noise out of place. Catching the falling door piece with the Force was less fun, but not very hard.

Selecting a shuttle was not as straightforward as she’d thought. She didn’t know nearly enough about ships to figure out which was the quietest. She also couldn’t take the one she had flown before, as it only had a capacity of 6 beings, 8 in a squeeze. There were fifteen students (not counting herself) studying at the Temple, plus Master Skywalker, minus the bastard, minus two who were currently away. None of the other teachers were here, either. Lor San Tekka was traveling. So she picked the newest of the slightly-larger shuttles. New had to mean quieter, right?

Now that she knew where he was and in what shape, she lifted all the rocks and debris in the way at once, but did not wake Master Skywalker up. He would just go off and off the bastard, and as satisfying as that would be… not something she could afford. So she simply floated him into a cabin.

Then she went to see Drace, an older Miraluka who Sylla was the closest with, of all the students.

Waking him up was easy. Convincing him to come with was not. She tried pointing him to the bastard’s presence; still loud, and still dark.

"I can see a dark presence, yes, and very strong. But I cannot say whether that is young Ben" Sylla flinched "or someone else. From here, it seems more likely to be someone else. Although…" he trailed off, turning towards her.

“Although what?” she asked.

“Your Force presence has also changed,” he said finally. "More than it should have in less than a day. Your shields are strong. Very strong. But your presence is not… this is odd." He tilted his head and looked at her with eyes unseeing.

She was used to his mode of vision, but this, in the present context, was somewhat unnerving.

“Odd?” she tried to keep her anxiety out of her voice.

_A loosing battle, when conversing with Force users, really._

But if Drace noticed, he didn’t comment on it.

"It feels sharper. Not in that it is more defined, but in that it feels… spiky. It is a very odd feeling."

“Okay. I have a spiky soul. Metal.”

She took a breath, the urgency of the situation coming back to her.

"Look, trust me, we do not want that dark Force presence to come anywhere near, whether you believe that is the bas— um. Ben. Or some other entity." She released some residual anger to the Force before continuing. "So: how about we get onto the shuttle, and be prepared to get the hell out of here like Master always says."

Drace paused, during which time Sylla stared, hushed, in wait and hope.

“It does sound like a reasonable precaution,” he allowed finally.

And he turned back into his tent to pack lightly, and equip his lightsabres. She hoped.

She powered on the repulsors, lifted up the shuttle as soon as Drace stepped on board, then shifted them twenty metres to the next tent. This one looked more like a hut than hers and the others’, which made sense, having been there the longest and all.

This was the newcomers’ hut. Built first, but with bunk beds and very little space for one’s own stuff. It was temporary accommodation for all new students until they were proficient enough in the Force that they could go through their first challenge: building their own.

Tents were built with the help of the Force, although for safety reasons they had to be structurally sound without it, too. Later, everyone gradually transformed their habitat into something more permanent and comfortable. Lifting and assembling timber and cloth was alright. Lifting, assembling, and holding in your head the model of a complex arrangement of stone, durasteel, duracrete, furniture, fixings, and all your possessions was much harder. If you were lucky, the result was even waterproof.

Currently, there was a single person in the newcomers’ hut: Pritik, humanoid with spindly limbs. Pritik’s species had a name for themselves, but it was almost entirely clicks and hisses and none of Sylla’s classmates had managed to replicate it. Pritik himself wasn’t sure they could, as they lacked some vocal organ he had. Sylla suspected Lor San Tekka would be able to, simply because he could speak and understand more languages than most protocol droids.

(A rather large amount of light-years away, a very distinctive droid felt the need to check their circuits after a bout of _completely impossible_ sneezing.)

Sylla knocked on the outside door, but didn’t wait before letting herself in. The hut was laid out so there were several rooms before the sleeping space, which were also occasionally used as a common space outside of the Temple by all students. She knew if Pritik was resting right now (which was likely, at this time of the night) he would not have heard her knocking on the outside. 

“Pritik?” she called into the sleeping quarters.

“Krt k’chylla ssiim, adatak.” was the reply.

_Er._

“Pritik? It’s me, Sylla.” she tried again, a bit more urgently.

“Sylla? I’ck essss- oh. Sorry.”

There was a pause followed by some shuffling, and Pritik’s boyish face popped out as the door slid open with a pneumatic hiss.

He was shorter than she was, but given his age and Humanoid physiology she expected him to shoot up in a few years. For now, she enjoyed being taller than at least one person here.

Pritik swayed in place, clearly tired, and his eyes roamed the room looking for a chrono. He finally settled on a datapad on the lounge table.

“Why are we up at sixth hour?” he asked.

"There’s a darksider in the Temple and I’m gathering everyone in a shuttle so we can be together and not individually caught by surprise by someone with… potentially murderous intentions."

That ought to cover it.

Pritik’s eyes widened, but all he said was:

“Okay.”

“Okay?” she repeated. Her lekku showed her surprise, although Pritik couldn’t read them.

What Sylla hadn’t considered was that Pritik was as junior as students came, and herself was pretty senior. Like, not first students ever, but pretty soon after that first group. Additionally, he was _young_ , still a teenager. To him, the Twi’lek was both an adult and an upperclassbeing. In the Old Jedi Order, she would have been a Senior Padawan and him an Initiate, and as far as he was concerned it was just part of the natural order of things to _do as they say_.

“Yeah. Can I take some things or do we have to go right now?” he gestured behind him.

“No, you— er. Yes, you can take your things.” she said awkwardly.

She stacked the datapads lying around while he packed. They might be useful.

Then she led Pritik outside and onto the shuttle. Drace was waiting, and showed the youngster around while Sylla lifted up and moved the shuttle two sites over.

(Two sites, because one was empty at the moment. Tobi’anocra, the only other Twi’lek in this Order, was off to Ryloth to visit family. Despite his insistence she use his shorter name, she always felt uncomfortable as his family was of a much higher standing than hers, even on Rodia, and even after he’d moved back to Ryloth along with his clan. It might not matter here, or to him, but her entire childhood had instilled tough habits to break. She had at least managed to stop bowing her head every time.)

Mahl was a relatively new face, but he was very talented, despite having very little Force presence even as a beginner. He was the fastest to move away from the communal hut, raising his own a mere month and tenday after his arrival. Sylla remembers taking bets about how long it would take for it to fall over. It hadn’t.

Everybody knew of Mahl, because everybody knew of everybody else in their tiny community, but very few _knew_ him. It might even be none. He never talked about himself, preferring to talk to others about themselves or anything else, really.

When Sylla knocked on his door, she was surprised it opened swiftly. She was even more surprised to see Mahl dressed up in robes. There was no light inside the hut, so had he been waiting for her in darkness…?

“Uh, hi” she started.

“You’re not exactly subtle with that shuttle,” said Mahl without preamble. “Gathering people up, are you?”

"Yes, I. How did you know— wait, no matter. I think there’s a darksider in the Temple, and I’m just gathering everyone up for possible evac?"

_Why do I sound unsure? That_ is _what I’m doing._

Mahl hummed for a moment.

“You’re not going to confront this… darksider?” he asked, with a blank face.

_I’ve tried that._ But she couldn’t say that, of course.

“Once we’ve got everyone, maybe, but not before. Stronger together, right?” she explained, referring to a principle they were taught early on.

“Ah.” He sounded strangely pleased. “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that, then.”

“What?” Sylla startled at the non sequitur.

“You see,” and his posture shifted, his voice becoming smooth, "Ben is on a mission from our Lord, and I cannot" he brought his lightsabre up "let you interfere." and lit it, the violent red splashing into the night.

Only instinct saved Sylla from the blade arcing down to meet her, and she brought her own to bear in the next movement. The ensuing fight was ferocious, nothing like anything she’d ever experienced. She cried out for help while barely holding her own against an underhanded swipe, then jumped back as Mahl lunged, dipping into the acrobatic style out of practice more than conscious thought.

Two blades of cool blue and one of violet lit up behind Mahl, and he turned, snarling. But Pritik didn’t yet have his own saber, only a practice blade, and both Mahl and Sylla knew that.

“No!” she yelled, pushing forward towards Mahl, who was airborne, blood red blade back and then swinging towards the terrified Pritik. Their lightsabres clashed in purple sparks, and for a moment Sylla thought it would hold, that she could reach them, but then the weaker blade exploded, its cells overloaded, Pritik’s life screaming bleeding into the Force.

* * *

She woke up in despair and bewilderment, her last movement carried out despite not being _there_ anymore, and she leaped off, got tangled in her own duvet, and landed in a mess at the foot of her bed. Outside, there was a loud clatter and rumble and the sound of feet running towards the Temple.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While he hadn’t said much, Mahl had revealed a lot during their brief exchange. But is it enough to answer questions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this yesterday, but birthday celebrations begat a nasty hangover begat only really working on this much later. It's still Star Wars day in some places, though, so it counts!

Sylla woke up in despair and bewilderment, her last movement carried out despite not being back there, in the fight, anymore, and she leaped off, got tangled in her own duvet, and landed in a mess at the foot of her bed. Outside, there was a loud clatter and rumble and the sound of Ben running towards her.

Well, towards the Temple, which she happened to be closest to.

_Mahl is a darksider?! Hels, Mahl is a darksider following the orders of the same person Ben is? That… that changes everything._

While he hadn’t said much, Mahl had revealed a lot during their brief exchange.

Firstly, that there was a mastermind out there. The jumbled up fragments Ben blurted and repeated outside before entering the Temple hinted at it, but this was direct and incontroversible proof.

Secondly, that Mahl had been planted there, inside the New Jedi Order, by this mastermind. That person therefore knew where the Temple was, how to get there, the identity of every being involved, and most likely their current capabilities in all that was taught and practiced at the Temple. Furthermore, they had a way of communicating that did not register as Dark or suspicious for any of the highly sensitive Force users here, nor the less sensitive ones.

On that note, Mahl clearly was capable of cloaking his darkness. While some had slipped through during the fight, likely because there would have been no point restraining himself at that point, none had ever slipped during any of the training or day to day events for the past several months. That was alarming for several other reasons, but Sylla decided to focus on the current set of revelations first.

The third thing Mahl had revealed was that Ben was "on a mission for our Lord." While Master Skywalker may (he had been vague, and Sylla wasn’t sure what to think of all that anyway) have attacked Ben in the first place, Ben had clearly violently responded, although it did look like self-defense, especially as Master Skywalker wasn’t dead. Unless that was part of the mission. It was tough trying to reason about things with very limited information.

But in any case, Ben was on a mission. A mission had parameters. One of these was “acceptable losses”. It was a tough part of strategy classes that this parameter was very rarely _zero_. In Ben’s mission, zero didn’t seem to even be close. Sylla had either been an acceptable loss or part of the mission.

She felt an absurd pleasure knowing that the loop reset if Ben exercised this leeway in his mission parametres, or did anything towards the completion of his goal in the latter case, ensuring he never got to finish his mission. He might not know it, but he would fail. Every. Single. Time.

_Wait, where did that come from?_ she wondered. _"The loop resets every time Ben kills?" Do I know that?_

She knew that if she died, the loop reset. If Ben died, ditto. If Pritik died, it ended also. She suspected but did not know for sure that if Master Skywalker died, the loop would reset.

But she didn’t know about any of the others.

Perhaps she should find out.

That was one thing to explore. Another was Mahl’s darkness, abilities, and mission. Especially, his ability to conceal his darkness at all times – or almost. That was interesting for two reasons.

_No, three,_ she realised with creeping horror. _If one darksider is able to inflitrate us and remain undetected, why not two? Or more?_

Alright, that was an unsettling thought. But one thing at a time. Reason one: it meant darkness could be hidden. That was obviously a worry, even without considering the possibility of more darksider inflitrators. She would have to figure out if it was possible to defeat this, or at least detect the shielding itself.

Reason two: if the dark could be hidden, so in turn could the light. Not just strong shields, but truly disappearing into the Force: that was something merely hinted at in the few old texts they could access, a feat of few Masters. A skill lost. It would be a tremendous help to be able to do so, and beyond her immediate situation, a great achievement.

And she had a practitioner of the skill right there.

_Of course, he’s not going to just teach me._

Ah well. She wouldn’t want him to, anyway. The very thought disturbed her; likely because he’d just attempted — perhaps succeeded — to murder her and her friends.

For some reason, that bothered her less than _Ben_ doing so. She knew Ben. Distantly, but she did. And… he was a Solo. He was an Organa. She had grown up hearing stories, of heroes, of adventures. Of rescuers. Ryloth might not be part of the New Republic, but it remembered its liberators and defenders through the ages, and not all of them had names of Ryl. Sylla’s homeworld was not Ryloth, and still the stories were told. Master Skywalker was a name that resonated strongly, even after the Empire, even after all this time, even beyond generations. Culture was powerful, and culture bound all.

(Twi’lek culture had always been a mix, especially outside Ryloth. Before its invasion and subsequent appropriation at the hands of Imperials, Ryloth Twi’lek culture had considered itself purer than offshoots, and there remained some of that in the clans that survived. The elites. Purer, perhaps, but poorer for it: where _Hadara_ , the Twi’lek diaspora, had the legends of _Erret_ , the Tatoo trickster, and the tales of hidden lovers with the Mando’a _Uenu_ , to guide their acts and hearts in times of strife, the refugees of Ryloth only had themselves. For many, too many, it was woefully unprepared they stepped into a world where other beings, not _Ilar_ storms nor _Yuned’vuren_ rumblers, were the most dangerous hostiles. Those that survived, learned. Those that learned, survived.)

_Back on track. Let’s figure this out. I can’t actually just go out and take out friends or classmates to see whether it would reset the loop._

For one thing, it was completely against her morals and ethics, even if dying was impermanent at the moment. It would just be… wrong. For another, it would show her the wrong thing: she wanted to know if or who Ben could dispatch without resetting, not who _she_ could.

_Although, if I’m not able to deal with Mahl, it’s going to complicate things. Assuming I actually can take him on._

To make plans, then.

Predict: Ben killing anyone would reset the loop.

Experiment: She could just stand aside and watch, but… could she? Would she be able to stay back and not defend a fellow student if they were attacked?

Well then. Predict: Ben killing another darksider would _not_ reset the loop.

Experiment: Still a bit shady on the ethical side, but also Mahl fucking deserved it after (before?) killing her friend. The issue was that Sylla had no idea how to cause a confrontation and have Ben off Mahl. They were allies, right?

Predict: Mahl and Ben aren’t the only darksiders around.

Experiment: That’s… straightforward enough. Just knock on every door, determine if the person within is a darksider, next. Determine how?

Be bold: Just straight ask them. _It’s not like they’re going to be honest with you, girl, what?_ But, well, why not? Obviously don’t ask them if they’re dark. Tell them about Ben, but make it sound like _she_ was the one on a mission, a mission that would derail theirs. Leave them to fill the gaps by themselves. If necessary, mention this so-called Lord. Provoke them into attacking her.

Be prepared to run like hell: keep a lightsaber handy. Get a blaster from the armoury. And if nothing else works, reset the loop.

How? Sylla got a terrifying idea, but dismissed it. _No. Not like that._ She’d figure it out.

“Let’s do this thing,” she spoke out loud.

She couldn’t hear anything outside her door, and there was no close presence in the Force. So Ben had moved on towards the centre of the Temple. That was fine with her. She needed to get weaponry.

The armoury, the real one, not the training one, was next to the hangar. She cast herself out a bit, feeling for immediate danger, but not risking alerting anyone who might be awake and listening. Then she took her cloak, stepped out, and jogged silently on the same route she took on the previous iteration.

Despite Mahl’s snarky comment, she knew how to be silent. She’d needed to, once upon a time, and New Jedi training only improved those skills. Being silent in the Force, though, that was another kettle of skorfin. Master Skywalker used it to cheat, er, to improve his tactical advantage, and the newly-discovered darksider obviously knew another technique. As it was, Sylla only could quiet her mind, tighten her shields, and practice one of the simplest ways to focus one’s Force presence in a controlled manner: consciously leaking it in one direction. In her case, down. It wasn’t perfect, by far, but it would put off casual scanning. At this juncture, it would have to be enough.

The armoury was eerily silent, and much to her relief, undisturbed. It was bad enough having murderous maniacs running around without them also being armed with heavy rifles. Speaking of… Helloooo, StarAnvil. The rare blaster was normally off-limits, due to being, well, irreplaceable. _I guess that’s one good thing out of this whole loop thing: can’t damage it permanently!_

She lifted it reverently and checked it before slinging it. Then she picked a couple of bog standard Westars, or more likely generic versions that worked just as well for a fraction of the cost, and absent-mindedly slipped a hold-out and a vibroknife in her boots. Apart from the heavy, a very typical kit.

_Time to hunt._

The first decision of the night was whether to go get Mahl, as a known variable, or avoid him entirely and focus on others. Sylla reasoned that while her stated goal was checking for other darksiders, a secondary goal was seeing if offing them was safe, loop-wise. _Offing or capturing or putting out of commission,_ she reminded herself. She wasn’t a cold-blooded killer.

So she made her quiet way to the fourth tent and hit the doorbell, then calmed her mind to feel, outwardly at least, like a friend. Mahl didn’t immediately answer, but she could sense his usual presence inside moving around, presumably getting up. That was interesting: he was asleep, then, and not watching through the Force or anything. That could be good news for stealth in the future.

When the door opened, she didn’t hesitate and fired four consecutive shots at point blank range with the StarAnvil. The Human didn’t really stand a chance. He was hurled back through the habitat, catching on a table which sent his body flying, hitting the back wall with a thud and a squelch. _I thought you said you weren’t a cold-blooded killer?_ a part of Sylla snidely remarked. _Shut up, he started it,_ she replied.

“…Force, I’m speaking to myself,” she voiced.

She waited a moment. That had not been quiet, even though the blaster itself was of excellent make and had produced mostly light, not sound. Perhaps aiming differently next time would reduce the amount of furniture that would get impacted and thrown around. The darksider was dead and gone to the beyond, and the loop had not reset! Well. Good. Onto other things.

She stepped aside, palmed the controls to close the door, and fried them so they couldn’t be activated again. One down. Five she could skip, including her own. Nine huts to go. She hoped none of them housed another darksider.

She walked at sedate pace to the next one, as the few minutes it took were a good time to calm herself down — despite having done relatively little, her adrenaline had spiked — and let the cannon cool down. The next hut housed Vsan Toor, and they had extra senses. During tactics practice, Sylla had observed reactions that only really made sense if the Kel Dor could feel heat at a distance, even through duracrete, although she had never confirmed it. Better to take the precaution.

They weren’t friends, but Toor liked her. None of the students here (with the exception of Ben, she would have thought, before) were unfamiliar with strife. In the red-skinned Dorian, that manifested as ruthlessness paired with quick reflexes, that made them a very good ally to have in unfamiliar terrain, or a terror to have as an enemy. She _really hoped_ they weren’t a darksider. Fighting them would be a nightmare.

She hit the buzzer. Knocking would do nothing: the Kel Dor had an interior controlled atmosphere behind an airlock beyond a small reception space, and sound would not carry through. Inside, Toor could live and sleep without their mask, which they otherwise never removed, but of course no-one else could share nor even enter their quarters — although some species might be able to with a rebreather, provided their skin would not corrode in the presence of the Antiox gas.

(Master Skywalker had simply stepped in unbothered and unharmed, because the laws of physics apparently did not apply to Master Skywalker. She’d asked, Toor had asked, most everyone had asked, but he’d only smiled and said something overly cryptic.)

“You’re up early, Rill. Anything I may do for you?” Vsan Toor inquired, voice gruff and leaning against the doorjamb.

"Toor. There’s a darksider in the temple. Want to join me in hunting it down?"

The Twi’lek indicated vaguely to the side with a casual head tilt and a lilt of her lekku.

Toor’s skin folds did something complicated that she understood as being consideration or skepticism or slight surprise. She would have held her breath if that hadn’t had the possibility of giving away the game.

“Let me guess: Skywalker trial?”

_Probably not dark, then._ she thought with relief.

Outwardly, she quirked her lips. The Kel Dor took that as confirmation.

“I’ll pass, then.”

_Most probably not dark, or at least not Ben-allied._

They took a step back into their hut, but couldn’t resist to give some advice: “Just don’t fail and you’ll be fine.”

Sylla smirked, and answered truthfully: “Couldn’t if I tried.”

“Alright. No need to be overconfident, though,” they chided as they closed the door, waving her off. “Trials are no joke.”

_Don’t I know it,_ she thought wryly, turning away. _Don’t I know it._

These trials were not the capital-T Trials of old, a kind of graduation exam, although the texts spoke of a spiritual journey and the holorecords showed perilous solo missions by _children_. No, these lowercase-t trials were simply solo training exercises given by teachers to one particular student, sometimes months in advance. It wasn’t against the rules to ask for help, but it was rare for people to actually join in unless it helped them with their own, too. There was a small market of favours that had established itself around the practice. It simulated some of the dynamics out in the Outer Rim and amongst traders, bounty hunters, smugglers, mercenaries, politicians, and the rest of the semi-underground community out there in the galaxy… but at a smaller and safer scale.

Trials given by Master Skywalker had a well-earned reputation for being either hard, ridiculously hard, or just plain ridiculous. They always included various kinds of work, from research to pursuit to investigation to full-on skirmishes. Lor San Tekka’s were about applying cultural knowledge for gain, and the toughest stealth work she’d ever done. And so on.

Slowly weaving a zigzag through the encampment, Sylla showed up at every hut she knew was inhabited on her way to the last row, which contained only hers, Ben’s, Master Skywalker’s at a distance, and two others including an empty one. They happened in much the same fashion, with similar results.

Kelpura tried to dive into the Force to sense something that could help her, but it _was_ very early in the morning and the Anx had not extensively trained in her chosen specialty yet. She had come out disoriented, and only commented that “Master Skywalker is really going all out for you: I cannot tell if the dark presence is genuine or not.”

Nuquierissan had made her wince with his volume, but that was habitual for the Human. She was glad it took less than three exchanges for her to confirm what she wanted and for him to go back to sleep. Sylla swore she could hear him snore just moments after she’d cleared his hut, even through the steel.

The Half-Bothan Tal’lya had hastily combed his mane before opening the door, and although he was taken aback at the hairless Twi’lek before him, had still attempted to entice her inside. She had left flustered, amused, and flattered, in a way, but not in any she’d really care for.

_When I get out of this I’ll have to make clear I don’t_ do _that,_ she mused.

It was on the seventh hut that events caught up to Sylla. No-one answered. The door was closed although not locked, and at a closer a few slightly wet prints could be seen on the hearth, like someone had stepped in then out — the “leaving” print overlapped and smudged the “entering” one, so she was pretty sure it was in this order — not too long ago. At some point during the night. But she hadn’t seen nor felt anyone in this area this iteration or any time during the previous ones when she was paying attention.

Insisting with the door, she finally decided to open the door herself. Worst case scenario, she’d step in on a naked Refe and it would all be terribly embarassing, but nobody would know once she woke up again. She could live with that.

_You need to revisit your worst case scenarios,_ her brain hissed as she took in the scene before her.

There was blood on the floor, burns on the walls, and Refe on the ground. Unconscious, thankfully, not dead.

She rushed at Refe’s side, looking at her and patting and feeling but she couldn’t find an injury. The blood was hers, though. Elomin bled red like most Humanoids, but they also had an extreme coagulant in their blood that was activated by air. To Sylla’s knowledge, no one else here had that characteristic. So unless there was a _second_ Elomin who had bled in Refe’s hut before getting away…

She needed to get Refe to the med-bay, but something was deeply off here. For one, as far as she could tell, the Elomin was unharmed, only unconscious. She could not find where she had bled from. Unless she had coughed up the liquid, which seemed unlikely given the species’ physiology, the only logical explanation was that someone had injured her, then healed her, but then also left her there.

_I wonder if she has door surveillance. She’s from a pretty well-off family, I think…_

The hut’s interior was richly decorated. Well, for one thing, it was decorated. Her own chambers were bare and functional, with only keepsakes and sentimental objects. From what she’d seen of others’, Refe’s rooms were practically regal. Lush fabrics hung as curtains, flat holos adorned the walls, and there was actual furniture.

So it wasn’t a surprise to find the door had a state-of-the-art monitoring and auditing facility, complete with its own interface. _Overkill,_ she thought. _Although I suppose it turned out to be useful._

She found the log for herself entering just a few minutes prior. The only entries before that were Ben. Entering at about two hours past sundown, then leaving a quarter hour later. No-one else, going backwards through the log, until Refe’s return from lessons at the expected time. _What were you doing there, Ben?_

Sylla tried to recall what she knew of the time before this loop, this phenomenon, started. It was hazy in her mind. There had been a party, out in the open. Was Ben there? He must have been. He was always there. But she couldn’t remember when and where. She hadn’t been drinking, though, or anything that might explain the uncertainty. A lot had happened in between, that was why. Even though physically it had only been a few hours, in spirit and in mind it had been days, emotional, wrenching, desperate days.

_I can’t wait too much longer. I have to get her to medical._

Even though there was nobody there but a droid, even though she knew it would not matter once the loop reset, even though she knew Refe had very little chance to wake up and tell her about what had happened before the next restart. Even though “medical” was in the temple, and that was where Ben was, too.

Sylla briefly considered hauling Refe on her shoulders before resorting to the Force to float her classmate along. Not only would that be faster and probably less tiring, although prolonged use of the Force took its toll just like anything else, but it would also be more healthy for Refe: the less movement and pulling and pushing in odd ways, the better. Almost like a stretcher, only… without the stretcher.

_Just don’t drop her,_ her inner voice piped up. _So you might want to not run into darksiders, inquisitive colleagues, murderous bastards… Easy peasy, right?_

And surprisingly, it was.

Despite her misgivings, Sylla encountered no-one between Refe’s hut and the Temple. Not even a thunderous Master Skywalker, who was still under his pile of rocks, unless he’d managed to get out from it all without disturbing the whole mess. She felt guilty about leaving him there, but he was safer there, or at least the iteration was safer without his intervention. She needed information, and she wouldn’t get it if he went saber blazing into the fray.

The med-bay was technically called the Healing Halls, after the old Temples, but it was really just a capital ship’s med-bay that had been dismantled and re-assembled inside a set of rooms. Occasionally someone opened something, a cupboard, a storebox, anything… and Jakku’s sand poured out, getting everywhere.

Sylla floated the unconscious Elomin to the nearest bed, then went to close the door before waking up M5-D5, their med droid. Predictably, the droid’s voice module activated loudly before she instructed it to quiet down and pointed out the possibly injured and most certainly completely out of it patient just lying there.

“What have you young ladies done again?” and the Twi’lek winced at the disapproval in the droid’s mannerisms.

“Nothing! Nothing. I just— found her like that?” she defended herself.

Deefive rotated its head towards her doubtfully before blithely getting back to its scan and fussing and mumbling in binary. Sylla considered herself lucky to have escaped its attention, and tiptoed out of the room. Now that she was here in the Temple, she may as well go see what Ben was doing.

Out in the main hall, she could hear echoes of voices, perhaps even shouts or at the very least, an argument breaking out. Ben wasn’t alone, then? Apart from Skywalker, probably still under debris, the only remaining people unaccounted for were the two who lived after Refe, who she hadn’t visited yet.

She kept her footfalls quiet, but hurried in the direction of the noise. She recognised the voices now: they did indeed belong to her three classmates: Ben and Devasha and Treyude, but she couldn’t tell any word out from the mixed up echoes. They came from the sparring room. She stopped when the entrance became visible, pricking up her ears in an attempt to listen in without exposing herself. She could distinguish a few words: dark, master, boy. It wasn’t enough, so she approached the doorway, sticking to the wall as much as possible.

Quickly peeking around the reveal, she saw that none were directly facing the entrance ( _Sloppy. What would Lor San Tekka say?_ ) and positioned herself to observe better. The body language of Treyude was outwardly aggressive but she recognised Ben’s coiled nervosity. Devasha was slightly off to the side, and while she was clearly interested by the discussion, appeared calmer, or more detached.

Sylla had been watching for a few minutes, trying to decide whether to make herself known, or to go back to Refe, when Treyude stepped back half a step, threw his head back and made a disparaging wave of his hand. Ben snapped something and made towards his lightsaber: that pushed the other two to jump out, weapons blazing.

“Oy!” Sylla called, waving a blaster. She needed to stop this before it went too far.

Unfortunately, she mistimed her shout, and to her dismay the only person she already knew could not die without resetting the loop failed to duck.

* * *

She woke up frustrated and angry at herself, at Ben, at Devasha and Treyude. Outside her door a boy tripped in the dark, and she didn’t care. Sighing, she sat up, pondering what she should do this time.


End file.
